


Mr. Wrong

by ripringle



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Aaron Dingle Week 2018, M/M, Near Future, post-break up mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ripringle/pseuds/ripringle
Summary: Aaron doesn’t have a lot of patience.Not for people, not for Adam’s stupid ideas, not for shopping, and certainly not for himself when he makes stupid mistakes like calling the wrong number.__Aaron Week Day 1: Rude Boy





	Mr. Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this months ago, but as it sort of fit the 'Rude boy' prompt for Aaron week, I thought I'd use that to push myself into finishing something for once!  
> Actually putting any of this into words was like pulling teeth, so my writing is Not Great, but I hope if anyone reads it they'll enjoy it all the same.  
> Thanks for clicking, and writing advice is always welcome!

This was never Aaron’s idea, but he’s still never doing it again.

He barely attempts to make an excuse as he leaves the table – he’s never been a particularly good date, even when he was interested in the bloke – and makes his way to the bogs, already taking out his phone, ready to verbally tear Adam a new one.

It’s not anyone’s business whether Aaron’s ready to date or even just shag again, yet his family and so-called friends can’t seem to keep their neb out; Aaron doesn’t know what they thought he was up to in his early twenties, but he’s never needed help picking up guys, thanks, and the fact they seem to think he’s so debilitated to meddle to _this_ extent, is frankly bordering insulting at this point.

Especially given the numpty Adam thought would be ‘perfect’ for him. To be fair, Adam’s always had shit hypothetic taste in blokes (Andrew Garfield? Really?) but this feels a lot like a bad ‘Aaron’s desperate’ DIY job.

He stops by the door and stabs Adam’s burner number in because he’s still technically on the run even if he is in the country, and why is Aaron taking any advice from someone taking a breather in _Norfolk_ of all places, never mind relationship advice?

“I’m going to kill you,” he hisses as soon as the line clicks, glaring down the corridor in case Mr. Have You Seen _This_ App Though decides to follow him. “I’m going to hunt you down, and I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Uh-”

“No, I’m not done.” He growls, leaning back against the wall and ignoring the look he gets from someone coming out of the toilets. “Why the hell did you set me up with this guy? I don’t know what you think my type is, but it isn’t receding hairlines and complaining about his phone for twenty minutes.” He breathes out sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose just thinking about it. “I don’t know why I even bloody listened to you; your love life has just been one long, nasty car crash.”

He expected Adam to be in fits of laughter by now, or maybe snapping back if he’d had a few, but instead there’s just silence on the other end; a dead silence that’s long enough for a peculiar dread to set in – Aaron’s just about to apologise (he’s not that angry, really) thinking that’s what the familiar tension is, when a voice finally comes through.

“Not that I’m not relieved the conversation has taken this turn, but that seems kinda harsh.”

Everything in Aaron’s world is suddenly still; confusion halting every movement and noise around him.

“What?”

“Hi,” the voice says cheerily. “You’ve dialled the wrong number.”

“I,” Aaron looks around him like the dimly lit hall of an Italian restaurant will help in some way. “What?”

“You’ve, dialled the wrong number? As in, the number you just called is not the one you want?” Aaron stares at the wall in front of him. “I didn’t set you up on a crappy blind date? I haven’t tried to set anyone up since I was about _19_.”

It’s funny, and yet incredibly not, that burning embarrassment is what snaps Aaron out of it.

“Sorry. God, sorry, I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” the bloke laughs. “I mean, answering to a death threat isn’t going to be the highlight of my evening-”

“Christ,” Aaron pinches his nose again.

“-but now I know you’re not a psycho, there’s no harm done. It’ll be like a funny little story I can tell my friends when conversation lulls.”

Aaron’s life is a literal joke.

“I’m really sorry.”

“I-”

“Yeah, I know you said it’s fine but still. I should’ve checked, or something.”

“Well, I’d say don’t let it ruin your night, but…”

Aaron snorts and finally releases the bridge of his nose to scrub his face, “Yeah.”

“What was the plan, by the way?” Aaron frowns, waits it out instead of responding. “After you called your mate? Were you just gonna drop a couple of threats, hang up, and bail on the guy?”

_Yes?_

“Uh, no?”

The disbelieving snort makes Aaron’s skin prickle; he’s going to doubly kill Adam. Triply.

“Right. Well, good luck with that.”

“What?” Aaron sneers, “What would you do then?”

“Not sneak out without saying anything, for a start. That’s low, even for a guy who opens conversations with death threats.”

“Listen-”

“Where are you?” he says, cutting into Aaron’s anger. “Bar? Restaurant?” Aaron grunts in confirmation, watching a woman slow her stride as she heads to the opposite door; he can’t exactly blame her for being suspicious, but rolls his eyes anyway. “Have you ordered yet?”

“No.”

The sudden low whistle that comes through startles him. “That bad, huh?”

“What was your first clue?” He grumbles, shuffling his feet as he hears the guy laugh, light and easy. He’s not the one hiding next to the loos, is he.

“Just go back and tell him something came up, or you're feeling sick, or whatever. It doesn’t have to be convincing - he’ll know it’s over as soon as you open your mouth – but it’s better than leaving him hanging or outright saying he’s boring to his face.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this a few times.” He says lowly, pulling at the hem of his jumper and only half-remembering to keep his eyes on the hall entrance.

“I really haven’t,” he chuckles again, “but still more experienced than you, it seems.”

That prickling comes back, goose pimples up his arms; he feels angry, embarrassed - _indignant_ is probably the word.

“Well, as I said, good luck.” He can hear the guy starting to move his phone, ready to end the call with his tone and thumb, but-

“I don’t need setting up!” Aaron blurts, loudly.

And promptly wants to die in the resulting silence.

“O..kay?”

Aaron covers his face and tries not to groan out loud. “You were saying, before, about not setting up dates since you were a kid, and I haven’t- I mean I know, y’know, with what I was saying…”

It’s deadly silent on the other end, and Aaron really should just hang up.

“I didn’t want- you were- I don’t need setting up, ok? I just have, interfering friends. That’s… yeah.”

It feels like an eternity until the guy responds with an incredulous, “Yeah?”

Aaron swallows, wonders why he felt the need to defend himself over nothing; wonders why he ever opens his mouth at all. “Yes.”

“Right… well, noted.”

He cringes, can’t bear to see if anyone’s around to have overheard any of that. “Good.”

It’s silent again, and Aaron’s just finding the sense to hang up when the guy speaks again, smile clear in his voice.

 “Go put the poor bloke out of his misery, before he ends up ditching you first.”

“Thanks,” Aaron mumbles, half hoping he won’t hear.

“You’re welcome,” he laughs, and Aaron doesn’t wait to hear the dial tone, just hits end and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

He takes a moment, then pushes away from the wall to put an end to this disastrous date. He wouldn’t mind if the bloke’s already left if he’s honest, means he can get woefully drunk before he heads home; drunk enough to forget the last hour ever happened at all.

~~~~~

Adam is as sympathetic as always.

“He offered to take you home?” Adam laughs, “What did you say?”

“I said _‘no’_ and walked out.” He balances his phone on his shoulder as he cuts his sarnie in half, Adam _guffawing_ into his ear.

“ _’No’_? That’s it? You didn’t say anything else?” Aaron grunts, taking a bite and picking up his plate to move to the table. He doesn’t tell him that he almost didn’t even do that, or about the awkward phone call from hell; Adam’s having enough fun as it is. “Mate! And after he was such a gent-”

“Don’t start,” he snaps, but he can’t help smiling when Adam laughs like that. “It’s your fault anyway. Can’t believe you set me up with him.”

“What? I thought he was a bit of a laugh when he had a few drinks in him-“

“Coulda told me beforehand he required alcohol.”

“Liked cars,” Adam bulldozers on, “alright looking, made a packet-”

Aaron snorts, “Yeah, coz I’m really into the money-makers.”

“What?” Adam laughs again, voice dripping faux innocence. “Robert was pretty minted when you got with him, and you dated that doctor; I thought money was a thing for you these days.” His shit-eating grin is so audible, Aaron can almost see it in front of him, sat the other side of the shitty white table he still hasn’t replaced. He tries to counter, but Adam talks right over him as per. “Even if it’s not, it’s not usually a _bad_ thing, y’know, for normal people.”

“Coz you-”

“-Is it too late to mention Ed was also a pro-Rugby player?” Adam quickly cuts in. “Maybe it’s time to realise you like the finer things in life, bro.”

“Enough,” Aaron laughs, Adam echoing it back in his ear. “And money’s not a _thing_ , just so we’re clear.”

“What is, then? Gimme some notes for-”

“No, no more setting up.”

“No, but if-”

“I mean it, Adam. I get why you’re trying, but I don’t need help with this, least of all from a straight bloke.” Aaron smiles as Adam laughs softly, but he pushes on before he can interrupt. “I don’t need people picking me blokes or pushing me into things, _again._ Alex was great, but-”

“Yeah, I know.” And Aaron knows he does. “I just thought you’d like him.”

Aaron smiles, purposefully taking another obnoxious bite. “Shows what you know.”

“Alright,” Adam laughs through various disgusted noises. “I promise I won’t try and set you up again, but when you come down next month, let’s meet in Brighton instead, yeah? Perfect cover story, and if you fancy it, I’ll be your wingman!”

“Pass,” Aaron snorts.

“What? I was a great wingman when we used to go to Bar West!”

“You and I remember those times very differently.”

Aaron listens to Adam defend his Straight Best Friend Forever status for another ten minutes as he finishes his sandwich. They try to keep their infrequent calls short, lest patterned activity shows up on either of their phone records, but feeling mildly hung-over, with Liv still distant enough to spend as much time as she can with Gabby, and knowing Adam’s time in England has a strict deadline, Aaron allows himself to bask in the warm familiarity of a friend and relationship he misses dearly.

Not for the first time, Aaron wonders if this is how Adam felt when he had left for France.

~~~~~

It's a couple of weeks later when Adam's shoddy paperwork means Aaron has to call him again, a bit sooner than either of them would like but Adam has no one to blame but himself.

Aaron flips through the Madison file again; one of the very first they created for Holey Scrap, and the first long-term contract they had with any dealer. People always say the longer the contract the better, but on a stormy Thursday afternoon, paper strewed across desks and boxes upturned left and right three years after that contract was signed, Aaron begs to differ.

Then again, if the contract had been even longer - or better yet, infinite - then Aaron wouldn't have to deal with renewal talks and new, eager-to-impress, pain-in-the-arse finance managers.

He scrubs his hands over his face, letting out pained sigh before checking the clock and taking a sip from his long gone cold, too strong coffee.

He's got ten, maybe fifteen minutes before Jimmy gets back to the cabin to make the call and tidy up the mess he's made.

He thinks about the amount of Nicola and dodgy digestive systems he's had to put up with just this past year, and figures Jimmy can flipping deal with it.

He grabs his phone and scrolls through his recent calls, peering out the blinds as he hits Adam's number.

With no sign of an early return, he walks back to check the papers on his desk again as he waits for Adam to pick up, putting them back in their file half-heartedly, knowing that he'll probably end up dragging them out again later.

Finally the line clicks.

"Hey, it's me," he says quickly, knowing they'll have to keep it brief for several reasons. "I can't find the contract we signed with Madison; they want to negotiate for the renewal and I can't find the original copy. I've checked their file, the north-east filing, and like, every fucking box in the office; you remember what you did with it?"

It’s silent on the other end, though Aaron can hear background bustle so he’s obviously picked up. “Adam?”

“I feel like I should have a witty response prepared,” eventually comes through, and Aaron’s stomach sinks. “But I’ve got nothing. You, uh, got the wrong number. Again.”

Pointless though it is, Aaron still pulls his phone away to see the expected grey silhouette of an unsaved contact, but a mysterious 4 sitting at the end of the number where a 7 should be. He reluctantly puts the phone back to his ear, though he’s tempted just to hang up immediately.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and really, why didn’t he hang up? He’s got nothing now, and who cares if he cuts off a complete stranger.

“It’s fine?” the guy replies, sounding bewildered. There’s a pause obviously, because Aaron has nothing to say, and there’s no reason the stranger would either. Until, “Do you, not have your friend saved in your phone? I didn’t know it was still possible to call the wrong number.”

Seriously, fuck this guy. Making everything he says sound like he’s talking down to Aaron. And for making him have to think on his feet for something that isn’t _‘it’s a new number that I can’t save just in case coz my bestie is on the run for murder for his mum’_.

“I er,” is a great start, “just used the call log coz-”

“Surprise, surprise!”

Aaron jumps at the sudden shout in his ear, feeling off balance, “What-”

“That’s how I should’ve answered the phone!” Aaron stares dead ahead at Jimmy’s desk. “Like Cilla Black? Y’know, coz of _Blind Date?_ And you were- never mind, sorry. I just thought of it, and it would’ve been funny,” he seems to register Aaron’s silence, quietly adding, “at the time.”

 Aaron snorts. “Useful; coming up with ‘ _clever’_ retorts 10 minutes too late.”

The guy laughs; a melodic sound that has Aaron’s lips twitching and his free hand fiddling with corner of one the papers in front of him. “Like calling the wrong number in times of crisis?”

Aaron chuckles, sitting down on his messy chair and stretching his legs out in front of him, “At least you’re improving.”

He’s full on smiling as the guy laughs again, “High praise,” he says lowly, amusement colouring every word, “coming from you. I’m guessing.”

“Close as you’ll get,” he huffs back, picking at the peeling plastic of his chair arm. There’s a distant clang over the phone and some indistinguishable shouting that has the guy sigh.

“Well, that’s my break over.”

“Oh, sorry-” Aaron glances at the clock; still a good 5 minutes before Jimmy shows up.

“No worries. Sorry I can’t help with your contract thing…” Aaron huffs at the teasing.

“My fault. Sorry about that too; won’t happen again.”

He hums. “Well, I thought that before so…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Aaron rolls his eyes, ripping off a strip of black plastic.

“Well, good luck with finding your thing.”

“You too,” Aaron automatically replies, and instantly hangs up, tempted to throw his phone across the room in horror. Instead he allows himself a solid 30 seconds of thumping his head down on the stack of paper on his desk and wallowing in embarrassed self-hatred, before picking up his phone again and looking at the stupid misdialled number.

He saves it to his phone for a single reason:

‘ **WRONG NUMBER** ’

~~~~~

The Madison renewal goes well, and Brighton goes better.

He makes sure to hang out with his mates down there for a bit, because he doesn’t see them much anymore _and_ to solidify his story, just in case. He keeps Adam clear of them, though the two hit the bars and clubs a couple of times, suddenly feeling too old in some of the straight ones and too sober for some of the gay ones; but it’s fun, and more of a laugh than Aaron’s had in what feels like years.

They both cop off a bit too, so there’s that.

Brighton’s never going to be Aaron’s favourite place in the world; it seems to him to be the birthplace of people like Misty, and the closer to the weekend, the more teenagers flooding the streets at night from the numerous small, suburban towns nearby. But he’s had some great times there, and despite the odd – forced – realisation that he’s almost closer to 30 than he is 25 (never mind 20), these few days are strangely rejuvenating.

Things get better with Liv too. Though she never said anything outright, she clearly wasn’t happy about him going to Brighton at first, despite him saying Gabby could stay over the whole time and promising his gran would be the one to check in on them. But when he gets back – bearing a stick of rock he knows she’ll never eat and a jumper he thought that she might like – he can visibly see her soften; shoulders and crossed arms relaxing, more inquiries about his trip than he expected, and a contemplative look when the recently familiar quiet takes over.

He wonders how he looks; if she and everyone else can see how much fun he had, how much younger he inexplicably feels.

Whatever it is, Aaron thinks she finally understands why he ended things, why it’s just the two of them right now, and why he’s been making a conscious effort to stamp more of their mark around their house.

She spends more time at home, takes up more of his offers to hang out, and chides him for his cooking and video game skills, even when he beats her.

It’s slow, healing, progress, and it settles something warm in Aaron to see – feel – things slot little by little back into place between them. But that doesn’t mean he’s stops trying harder for her.

“The dough balls might have been a mistake,” Liv groans, rubbing her tummy in slow, circular motions continuously. Aaron keeps his eyes on the dark road and _doesn’t_ laugh.

“I did try to tell you.”

“Coz you’re one to talk,” she scoffs back. “Have you seen you eat pizza? It’d be less embarrassing to sit there with Monty. And you ate most of the popcorn.”

“But popcorn isn’t made of dough like garlic bread, pizza, _and_ dough balls.” He flicks the indicator to turn onto Main Street. “What did you think was gonna happen?”

“The miracle of being able to enjoy my food without an ‘I told you so’ lecture after, maybe.” Aaron tries to hide his smile at her grumbling as he parks up.

“Salty,” he teases. “Don’t whine about it then.”

She pulls a face, mimicking him unkindly – and lazily – as she unbuckles, snatching up her pick-a-mix bag and groaning as she climbs out of the car.

He follows with far more ease, not saying a word as he unlocks the doors and she continues to rub her stomach.

“You want anything?” he offers after they’ve stepped in; he gets the feeling she’ll want to head straight up, even though it’s only 10 and he knows she has a habit of staying up till gone 1.

“Nah, I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Want me to take that?” he  can’t help asking, pointing to the mostly full pick-a-mix bag swinging loosely from her hand. She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not a child, Aaron. I can control myself, thanks.” She says as she slowly climbs the stairs.

“The state of the bathroom in about 5 minutes begs to differ.”

“Ugh, you’re so gross!”

He laughs as she stomps the rest of the way, calling a _goodnight_ as she reaches the landing and receiving a door slam in response.

He shakes his head as he flicks the kettle on, smiling. It’s been a good night.

Just as he’s getting the milk out, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out to absently check it before finishing his tea, but he’s stops in his tracks to see **WRONG NUMBER** lighting up his screen with a text.

He’s too busy processing the name to read the text underneath before his screen goes dark again. He’s still wondering why on earth the stranger would text him when his phone buzzes and lights up again, little white box saying:

**WRONG NUMBER _  
_** _has sent you an image_

Even more confused, Aaron leaves the milk on the counter and swipes his messages open.

_> Hey, I know this is super random, but is this your failed blind date?_

The picture below is a little fuzzy and taken over some guy’s shoulder at a bar; a clandestine shot, if Aaron ever saw one. But he instantly recognises the other man in frame, especially with the way he’s pointing emphatically to his red-cased phone.

He’s surprised; taken aback if he’s honest, and hesitates before replying.

< _yeah. I’d move further away if I were you_

Aaron’s doesn’t have time to wonder if that was a stupid thing to say as three little dots flash up instantly, followed by:

> _Thought so!_ _Couldn’t help overhearing him go on about his phone and then saw his hair; didn’t think there could be 2 of them._

> _Small world, huh? Unless he gets around a bit…_

That might be true, given that Adam had met him in Norfolk a couple months back. Aaron could relay that to him, or joke that he’d need to if he wasn’t going to improve his pick-up lines. Or maybe say that it was indeed a small world, since Aaron’s pretty sure he recognises the place; a gay bar in Leeds, if he’s not mistaken. But he doesn’t know how to word any of that, doesn’t know what the guy would reply with, so he doesn’t.

He closes his messages, puts his phone aside, and finishes making his tea.

~~~~~

He was all dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin, and Aaron’s ravenous when he wakes up in the morning.

He shifts in the warm sheets as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake the man next to him, but then going by the way his face is smooshed into the pillow and the obnoxious snores coming from him, Aaron thinks he’s pretty safe on that front.

He’s surprised he managed to sleep through it till now. Well, thinking about it more, maybe he’s not.

His stomach growls again, and he gently - and semi-reluctantly - slides out from under the warm, soft sheets, picking up his boxer-briefs and looking back at the bed as he pulls them back on.

Even like this, with drool and ungodly noises coming from his mouth, ‘Marcus with a C’ is handsome. Aaron’s oddly proud of the night before, even if the grating sound has him finding and snatching up his t-shirt as quickly as humanly possible.

He freshens up a bit in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen/living room to pull on his discarded jeans, stomach painfully and distractingly empty.

He looks at the closed bedroom door, snoring still coming through faintly, before he sort of tiptoes to the kitchen even though no one’s there to hear or see him.

There’s bread on the counter, and a quick peek into the fridge reveals an interesting mixture that appears to have a fair bit of bacon in it.

Truth be told, Aaron’s a bit rusty a this part. It’s his first proper one-night-stand since, which isn’t a problem, but it’s also the first time he’s stayed the night at the other guy’s in, well, years now. It had been pretty clear last night between he and Marcus that this was a onetime thing, but Aaron’s forgotten what the protocol for the morning after is; does he have to be gone before Marcus is up? Can he grab something to eat? Does he have to make Marcus something if he makes his own breakfast?

Aaron knows what he’d say if the positions were reversed, but life’s taught him that’s not always a great indication.

It’s times like these he wishes he was a bit more open about stuff; that there was someone he could text or call to ask stupid, booty call questions. If things were different, he’d maybe text Adam-

Aaron hesitates, before digging his phone out of his pocket to see he still has battery.

And that it’s 7:43, _Jesus_.

He thinks about the texts he received a couple weeks back, thinks about how he can’t possibly embarrass himself any more than he already has, and how _it doesn’t fucking matter_ because he’s a stranger. A friendly stranger who knows how to end awkward dates, and maybe things like this too.

It’s stupid, but for some reason Aaron still wants to.

He scrolls through his contacts and hits the number.

It rings for a while, long enough for Aaron to think that it’s going to go to voicemail and prepares himself to hang up _immediately_ , but then the line clicks.

“Still not Adam,” groggily comes through, and Aaron smiles.

“I know.” He offers quietly. “Don’t suppose you’re up for dishing out more advice?”

The guy groans, and Aaron can faintly here the rustling of sheets.

“If he’s taking you out on dates before 9am on a Sunday, ditch him.”

Aaron laughs, “Not a date. Morning after.”

He hums, still half-asleep, “Congratulations.”

Aaron rolls his eyes and leans back with a step, checking the door’s still closed and the faint snoring’s still going. “So, the guy’s still asleep and I’m starving; it’s ok to grab something before I leave, right?”

There’s some grunting and shifting through the phone, and a pause so long Aaron’s not sure if he’s still processing the question or if he’s fallen back asleep until he yawns, “Just a one-nighter?”

“Definitely,” he replies, picking at a weird, burnt stain on the counter; Aaron’s almost ashamed that he’s 90% sure it’s baked beans, having done that himself more times than is flattering to count.

“Hmm, yeah, I think it’s fine. I wouldn’t mind.” He yawns again, and Aaron wastes no time digging out a couple slices of bread with one hand. “Don’t, like, cook or anything. That’s weird if you’re not gonna  make him some too.”

Aaron side eyes the fridge as he pushes the toaster down, “What about leftovers?”

The bloke laughs, and Aaron’s almost startled to realises he notices that it’s different, raspier with sleep. “Why not.” Aaron can hear there’s a teasing tone in there, but he ignores it coz it’s working in his favour this time. “What is it?”

“Not sure,” Aaron mumbles, pulling open the fridge and taking the small bowl out. “Something bacon-y.”

There’s an appreciative grunt, “Then you should definitely take it.” Aaron smiles, wedging the phone with his shoulder as he hunts for the cutlery. “Maybe leave him a note though?”

“A note?” Aaron frowns, accidently finding a plate and tossing the popped toast on it.

“Yeah. A ‘ _Had a great time last night, and sorry I helped myself to food’_ or like a joke-y, flirty ‘ _thanks for breakfast’_. I dunno. Something to soften the loss of bacon.”

Aaron snorts, spreading the concoction thickly over the toast, “Yeah, alright.”

It goes silent, but Aaron’s too preoccupied with his experimental sandwich to think about breaking it or worry about how awkward it is. Instead, he carries right on taking a huge bite, using his other hand to hold his phone again so he doesn’t choke.

“Good?”

“Mmm, yeah. Really good.”

He laughs as Aaron takes another bite, “Well, as _lovely_ as it is to hear you chewing over the phone…”

“Right,” Aaron says, mouth full, and hastily swallows. “Sorry. Thanks for the help. And, uh, sorry for waking you up.” Now that Aaron’s saying it out loud, he’s really realising how stupid, frankly batshit crazy it is. He panics for all of a second before he reminds himself the guy could have hung up at any time, so he’s at least just as stupid as Aaron is or at worst doesn’t mind that Aaron’s stupid.

“It’s alright,” he laughs softly again. “I think I’m beginning to enjoy the Dating Trials of Adam’s Friend.”

Aaron huffs a laugh, hopes he wasn’t heard as he goes for a sarcastic, “Funny.” He takes another, purposefully big bite just in case.

“Ok, ok, I’m going. Enjoy your stolen meal.”

Aaron has to swallow, which thankfully means he’s forced to think before he replies this time. “Enjoy your Sunday.”

“Thanks,” is the soft reply, and Aaron takes that as his cue to hang up.

He doesn’t linger on the call, just shoves his phone back in his pocket and finishes his sarnie as quickly and quietly as he can without causing himself an injury. Last bite still being chewed, he opens the fridge again and goes for broke, taking one of the little bottles of water as well.

As he dusts his hands down on his jeans and heads for his jacket thrown across the chair, he spots a little pad of paper and pen on the table, and thinks about the advice he was just given.

He slips on his jacket, scribbles out a quick message and leaves it on his empty plate, before quietly leaving, ears still trained on the awful snoring until he’s gently closed the door and is free.

_Ta._

~~~~~

It’s been said that Aaron and Liv are too alike. It’s usually said as a bad thing, when they get stroppy, or stubborn, or standoffish, but it still makes Aaron feel disproportionately proud. There’s years between them, and they’ve spent years apart, but they’re still undeniably family, still a part of each other, and that recognition means something indescribable to Aaron.

Unless they’re shopping. They both hate shopping, which makes the shopping _worse_ , and Aaron hates how irritable they both quickly get. Right now he wishes they were different people, on different continents, never having met never mind be related.

“You _wanted_ to come here.”

“No,” Liv snaps back, not as worried about causing a scene in a supermarket aisle, “I _wanted_ to get Gabby a vegan cake. I didn’t want to spend three hours shopping.”

“I’m not going to two different shops just to save you time. And it’s not my fault Hotten’s Tesco doesn’t do vegan cakes for your _fake-_ vegan friend.”

Liv gives him a look like he’s said the most appalling thing imaginable, like – as Aaron’s beginning to realise – all teenage girls are capable of doing at any given time, “ _Ethan’s_ vegan, and she told him she was too. If you say anything, Aaron-”

He rolls his eyes, “Of course I’m not going to,” he has zero intention of ever meeting Gabby’s new boyfriend, never mind speak to him. “But I’m also not going to drive all the way here and _not_ get shopping _we_ need.” He’s vaguely aware of passersby giving them looks, but Liv obviously doesn’t care, and Aaron just cuts them vicious glares to keep them moving.

“We don’t need anything.” It’s a weak argument, but it still snags on Aaron’s nerves.

“Oh, and what are you going to eat for breakfast tomorrow exactly?” He says, gesturing to all the cereal they’re standing next to.

Apparently the use of arms was crossing the argument line, because Liv scowls and stands even more determined, “Nothing you buy here.”

“Liv-”

“Now you’re wasting your _own_ time, coz I won’t eat any of it. I’ll get myself something from Daivd’s when we get home.” It’s possibly the most petulant thing she’s ever said, and it stuns Aaron for a hot second that she pounces on. “I’ll wait by the magazines.” She says, like she’s fucking won something.

“I’m going to kill you, Liv.” He hisses loudly. She pulls a face, though Aaron strongly suspects she wants to flip him the bird; she not done that to him directly yet, and the Wednesday supermarket crowd are spared that first as she stomps away, paying no more mind to Aaron.

He watches her go for a moment, fuming, until he realises he’s being stared at and flicks his eyes back to the space Liv just vacated, finding a guy staring at him wide-eyed and slack jawed.

He’s stunningly attractive, so of course Aaron snaps at him.

“You gotta problem, mate?”

The man shakes his head quickly, snatches up the nearest cereal and pretends to read the back.

Aaron’s not good with _pretty_. He’s had his fair share of fit blokes, doesn’t have a problem picking them up or, y’know, _talking_ to them, but when their good-looks start edging on pretty, Aaron’s suddenly a teenager again; shy and defensive, and in the better circumstances, that same stumbling mess that tried to ask Ed out for the first time.

Not that Aaron’s interested in this guy, who’s gawking is putting him on edge anyway. He just noticed, is all.

He turns back to the brightly coloured boxes in front of him, grumbling such nonsense to himself even he’s aware it’s just growling at this point, and grabs the one that looks most sugary on principle, throwing it into his trolly and striding away.

He’s sure the bloke is watching him storm off; the awareness sending tingles up his neck. Aaron refuses to look back to check, and he refuses to care whether the heat creeping across his skin is from irritation or embarrassment.

Story of his fucking life.

~~~

Aaron doesn’t torture himself by taking his time with the rest of the shopping, but he sure as hell doesn’t give into Liv’s demands and continues to get all the things they need.

His mood continues to sour though because he still doesn’t like shopping, and he doesn’t like arguing with Liv, and he doesn’t like embarrassing himself in front of people. At first it feels like the whole store overheard them and everyone’s giving Aaron dirty looks every time his back’s turned. Then it feels a little like fate’s decided to mess with his life a bit more, having the gawking guy turn up at the end of whatever aisle Aaron’s in a couple of times.

Then Aaron’s skin prickles as he’s looking for the Italian sauce Liv likes, and he turns to see the same guy almost walking up to him. Of course, he stops dead in his tracks like a deer caught in headlights when Aaron fixes him with an unforgiving glare.

“Seriously,” he growls, turning to face him dead on and ready for a fight, “What is your problem.”

The guy’s eyes are just as wide as before, now close enough for Aaron to see that they’re green and reflecting the annoyingly bright lights easily, but he’s biting his lip this time, and Aaron can’t help noticing the two giant freckles - _beauty spots_ , his gran would probably call them with a leer – sitting pretty on his jaw and by his left eye.

Suddenly the man’s features soften; faint lines crinkling at his eyes, lips lifting into smile-

_Oh._ This isn’t going to go well for Aaron.

“Uh,” Aaron stutters, frown still in place but guard slowly sliding all the way down, leaving Aaron grappling for something to hold on to, a defence, a reaction, nerves restless and picking up energy.

The guy laughs a little and leans against the shelves like he’s some kind of model, or in a bar with a beer in his hand and not a basket full of mid-week groceries. It’s cheesy and frankly looks lame against the various bags of pasta, but Aaron’s picking up the signals loud and clear, including the embarrassed sort of nervousness that has the guy brush a hand through his dark hair as he quickly looks Aaron over.

He’s confident, and clearly used to being confident –unsurprising given his _face_ – but there’s a shyness too and that’s... well, that’s doing something for Aaron.

Not that Aaron’s fairing any better.

“Hi,” he says, and Aaron’s a little lost at how friendly that’s said and at the nervous tick to his smile. “Adam’s friend, right?”

_Adam’s-?_

Oh.

_Oh, **no**._

The guy laughs and, _oh no._ “Sorry, there’s no way of introducing myself that doesn’t sound creepy, but, uh,” _oh no._ “I’m the wrong number you kept calling.”

_Oh no._

“How,” Aaron stutters, and he just doesn’t have the higher brain power right now to worry about how stupid he looks. He will later, though. _Boy_ , will he later. “How did you-”

He shrugs with an embarrassed looking smile, “Can’t say I get a lot of death threats, so it’s, uh, _memorable_ when I do.”

_Oh_ , **_god_** _._

He slaps a hand to his forehead and groans.

The man laughs lightly, “So that’s a thing for you, huh?”

“Would you believe me if I said ‘ _no’_?” Aaron mutters through his hand. He’s not even sure it _is_ a no; he doesn’t like people very much, used to get angry with them so easily; maybe it _is_ a thing for him, how would he know?

“Hmm,” Aaron can hear the goddamn smile like he always could. “I guess I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Aaron would very much like to stay hidden behind his hand for all eternity, but he knows that’ll make him look even more like a loser, and _christ_ , he’s just remembered that he called this _could-be-model_ on what to do the morning after like a stupid kid.

The worst has been done, so Aaron valiantly, slowly, moves his hand.

“Hi,” the guy says softly, smiling and tilting his head like he was trying to peer at Aaron from beneath his hand.

“Hi,” Aaron offers back, clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders.

“I’m Matt,” he holds out his hand that Aaron automatically takes.

“Aaron.”

“Nice to actually meet you. And put a face to the voice.”

“Is it?” Aaron winces, but the guy- _Matt_ , keeps on smiling, putting his hand in his pocket, casual as you like.

“So,” he says once it’s clear Aaron isn’t going to offer up any conversation. “How’re those Dating Trials going?”

Aaron groans and pulls a face, “Really?”

“What?” he says fakely, “No more weird morning afters or blind dates?”

“I told you, that was just Adam. I don’t need setting up.”

“Yeah, I can believe that.” It’s low and flirty, and Matt’s not subtle in the least. There’s a look in his eyes and stupid grin on his face that says he’s not even trying to be, and Aaron is strangely reminded of something he overheard Nicola say years and years ago; ‘he’s the type to laugh you into bed’.

He realises Matt has laughed a lot, the brief times he’s spoken to him. He seems to always have something teasing to say, or a lame joke, and now Aaron can see with his own two eyes he has an unfairly attractive smile that just won’t slip not matter how long Aaron lets the awkward silence sit.

He wonders if Matt’s that type of bloke too. Along with everything else that’s going for him.

“Smooth,” Aaron eventually replies with, voice deadpan and hopefully playing the pause off as something unimpressed.

Unsurprisingly, it prompts a chuckle out of Matt, “Oh, I think we’re both a long way past the _‘being smooth´_ line.”

Aaron scoffs, but can feel his lip twitching as he pretends to look at the sauce jars again, “Speak for yourself.”

“Alright,” and that’s not what Aaron had expected, so he glances at him from the corner of his eye. He’s leaning even more into the shelves – still dumb – and his smile’s more sultry than teasing, “Hit me with your best shot.”

Aaron wants to. He wishes he could say something smooth, or something so corny that it breaks the serious look Matt’s going for into laughter again. But he’s not that quick of a thinker, especially when pretty eyes and pretty smiles are focused on him, and he’s never been that kind of flirter anyway.

He turns back to him, meaning to say anything other than, “Are you really hitting on me after everything? You saw me for the first time, like, 5 seconds ago.”

Aaron expects him to look embarrassed – either on his behalf or Aaron’s – but instead his eyes go wide and he straightens, looking surprised. “Wouldn’t you?” He asks, soundly genuinely confused. “You’ve got this tough-guy attitude going on, but you’re kinda cute-”

“’ _Cute’_?” Aaron can’t help butting with surprised distaste; he doesn’t think he’s ever been called that in his life. “You think I’m _cute_?”

Matt shrugs with a timid smile, “Yeah, I reckon.” He pauses, adding, “A bit.” with a wink when Aaron fails to respond.

It’s a lot to take in, really.

“And,” Matt continues since Aaron’s busy trying to process what exactly is happening, “You look like _this_ ,” he gestures literally from Aaron’s head to his toes, “So, yeah, I’m taking a chance and hitting on you. In Sainsbury’s. On a Wednesday. Shortly after you threatened to kill a young girl.”

That snaps Aaron back into the moment, “I dare you to call her that to her face,” he snorts.

“I think I’ll tackle this one at a time, if it’s all the same,” he says with a laugh. “Seems like the safer option.”

Aaron smiles, and if it’s a little embarrassed, Matt doesn’t seem to notice or mind.

He tries to think of something say, something to keep the conversation going or try and hedge his way into asking Matt out, but nothing’s coming; mind still whirring and at least half of it still trying to work out when exactly he was _cute_.

His silence seems to finally have an effect, as Matt shuffles a little bit and runs his hand through his hair again.

“Well,” he says, still with a tentative smile even as he starts to step away. “You have my number if you wanna go out sometime.”

“No,” Aaron says quickly, having vivid flashbacks of the voicemails he’d left Ed and that one guy he met in Marsalis trying to ask them out. “You, er, you arrange something and I’ll let you know.”

“Ok,” he smiles brightly, slowly walking backwards which looks odd, but better than stopping awkwardly in the middle of the aisle Aaron supposes. “If I say dinner, will you promise not to leave before we order?”

Aaron shrugs, “Don’t be boring then.”

Matt laughs, “Noted,” and Aaron grins right back. He gives Aaron a weird little wave before turning and walking away like a normal person. Aaron watches him in still mildly stunned silence, and then in appreciation, until he rounds the corner and Aaron lets out a little shaky breath.

There’s a little flutter in his chest – excitement, maybe, or just good old attraction – but he pushes it aside with the whole conversation and tries to focus on the pasta sauces again.

He’s only got three more things to get, then he’ll go save Liv.

~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Liv’s talking to him again with the help of a surprise doughnut and the promise of going home.

As she’s taking the trolly back, he gets a text.

**WRONG NUMBER**  
_Not to sound too eager, but are you free Saturday?_

Aaron smiles.

_> I guess_


End file.
